


Reminder

by Mithen



Category: 3:10 to Yuma (2007)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-30
Updated: 2009-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-04 00:15:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  Many years after Dan Evans's death, a visitor shows up at the Evans ranch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reminder

Felicia Evans was arranging fresh-cut flowers in a crystal vase when there was a knock on the door.  Frowning, she moved through the ranch to the porch.

The man outside the door was not one to inspire trust and confidence.  He was slouching and shaggy, a black hat pulled low over his eyes.  There were flecks of white in his beard.  Felicia reminded herself that the hired hands were in the bunkhouse, in easy shouting range--and there was always the pistol in the desk in her study as well.  The man touched his hat briefly.  "Mrs. Evans, ma'am?"

Felicia smiled politely at him.  "Yes, may I help you?"

"I knew your husband back when he was just a little boy.  My name's Wade.  Ben Wade."

The name was vaguely familiar to Felicia, but she couldn't place it.  "I'm sorry," she said with some embarrassment when she couldn't summon recognition, "I'm afraid I didn't grow up around here, so I don't know a lot of the folks from Will's childhood."

The man smiled, a sudden bright thing that lit up his craggy face and made him look decades younger.  "It's all right, ma'am.  We didn't know each other long."

Something about the smile made it easier for Felicia to move aside from the door and gesture inside.  "I'm afraid Will is in town today and won't be home for a few hours.  But do come in.  I'll pour you some lemonade."

He took off his black hat as he came into the house and dusted at it a bit, ineffectually, before placing it on the hat rack.  He looked around the bright, spacious house.  "So where are you from originally, if I may ask?"

Felicia busied herself with pouring him a glass of lemonade.  "Oh, I'm from San Francisco.  I taught art there."

"Oh?"  A flash of interest in his eyes before he took a long sip.  "Thank you kindly, ma'am, this surely hits the spot."

Felicia suspected it would hit the spot better for him if it had some gin in it, but she appreciated the politeness.  "Yes, I was teaching there when I met Will."

"And you gave up life in the big city to come out here?"

Felicia laughed.  "My friends thought I was crazy.  But I knew Will well enough to know he'd never leave this ranch."

Ben was looking out one of the large glass windows Will had brought up from San Francisco, gazing at the fields.  "He's done well by it."

"He loves this place.  It's everything to him.  His parents both died here, long before I met him."

"His mother too," murmured Ben.  He glanced at her.  "I'm sorry."

His eyes were really quite lovely, Felicia thought, strangely sorrowful in that weathered face.  She looked away and adjusted some flowers in a vase.  "Well, it's ancient history now.  Will has made the ranch flourish in their memory.  And--" she broke off, blushing slightly, still feeling the strangeness of it, "--There should be a new generation of Evans around the ranch soon."

He flashed a wolfish grin at her.  "Congratulations," he said.

She smiled, embarrassed.  "Let me show you to Will's study.  You can wait for him there."

The study was dark;  she opened the curtains to allow some light in.  She turned around to find Ben gazing intently at a framed picture on the wall.  "Oh, that's Will's father," she said.

He didn't answer her for a moment.  Then:  "I know."

She moved to stand beside him, looking at the sketch.  "It's the only picture he has of his father.  It's been hanging in his study as long as I can remember.  I asked him who drew it once and he just said 'a friend.'"

"Ah," said Ben.

The frame was hanging a little crooked;  Felicia reached out and straightened it.  Ben made a slight, sudden motion as if he would stop her from touching it, then stilled.  "It's really quite a wonderful piece, isn't it?"

"I'm...no judge of art, ma'am."

"Well, I am, and I think it's beautiful.  Lacking in polish and finesse, of course, but brimming with energy.  And most importantly, whoever made this drew it with love.  You don't need to be a judge of art to see _that."_

"No ma'am," said Ben Wade.  "No, you don't."

For a long time they stood, looking at the picture.  Then Ben turned away for a moment and rubbed at his face as if he were tired.  "Well, ma'am, I guess I'll be moving on."

"What?  No, you're welcome to stay and wait for Will."

"No ma'am.  I've seen you're doing well here.  I've seen--I've seen enough."

Gingerly, Felicia reached out and touched him on his ragged sleeve.  "I'm sure Will could...find work for you here, if you need a place..."  For a moment she was afraid she might have insulted him by assuming he needed charity, but then he just smiled.

"Thank you kindly for the offer, ma'am.  But no, I'm afraid this was...never the place for a man like me."  He moved through the house, his boots solid on the floorboards.  "Would you tell Will I came by?  And tell him he's done good.  His daddy'd be proud of him."  He stopped briefly on the porch, looking around with an odd expression on his face, sad and satisfied.  "But he already knows that, I'm sure."

"I'll tell him anyway," Felicia said.  "It never hurts to be reminded."

Ben Wade laughed a little as he swung up onto his horse.  "Oh, it hurts sometimes," he said softly.  "It does, at that.  But it's always worth it."

  


End file.
